My Silent Heart
by icefire-lioness
Summary: When Draco tells his father exactly what he thinks of him, he has to face the consequences. Now, with only thin threads holding him to reality, Draco takes any opportunity for distraction that he can find. And then then there's The Contract... later Hr/D
1. Prologue

A vase smashed by Draco's head, covering him in a fine layer of dust and broken china.

He brushed his robes off with a barely perceptible sigh and looked at his father, who was still yelling, his face contorted with rage.

"What do you mean; you don't want to be a Death Eater? You have no choice in the matter! The decision has already been made for you!"

Draco remained where he was, leaning back in the chair, an insolent look on his face.

"Look at me, you disrespectful imbecile!"

Draco looked up lazily, pretending his heart wasn't hammering.

"I don't want to be a Death Eater, father, and that is that. You can't make me join against my will. I might do something rash, like become a spy for the Or…"

His words were cut short as Lucius pounded his fist on the desk.

His whole body was shaking with anger by now.

"Enough! I will not hear any more of your idiotic words! You are to carry the Malfoy name with pride and do as we must do! And now, it is time for us to serve our master, a task that you will carry out when the time comes, and carry out well!"

Draco leant back against the chair again, his eyes closing.

"Father. I do not _wish_ to be a slave. I have my whole life stretching ahead of me – where is the glory in being someone's personal servant? The Dark Lord's days are numbered. He is in hiding now, he is weak, and his followers are few. Much as I agree with his basic principles…"

He shrugged, eyes still closed tightly.

Lucius gripped him by the shoulders, his fingers gouging Draco's skin.

He bit his lip, trying not to make a sound.

Lucius's next words were said in a deadly undertone.

"Draco. You must realise, that by renouncing this, you renounce your right to the Malfoy name. We will have you burned from every family tree; we will be estranged from you and any dog children that you spawn. In time you will become nothing but an old, half-forgotten name to your mother and I, and nothing to the rest of the family.

Without this title, Draco, you will have no doors opened to you; I will make sure of that. Each step you take in life will become all the harder, because of your choices now. Do you wish to rid yourself of everything that the Malfoy name stands for?"

Draco tried desperately to steady his breathing.

So now his father would _estrange_ him? It just made the decision easier, in the end.

He looked up at Lucius, breathing calm, face showing no hint of the battle that raged within him.

"Yes, father. I wish to give it up. The Malfoy name is exactly that and nothing more, a name. I don't care any more."

Lucius's face grew even more furious, if that were possible.

He twisted around and started to pace the room in a frenzy, then after a second, wheeled back and struck Draco brutally across the cheek. Draco lost his balance and fell to the floor, where he touched a finger to his face. His nose was broken – shattered in two places. Blood dripped out of the crushed bone as he tried to breathe out of his mouth.

"No! Not merely a name, Draco! The Malfoy name! We are the best of all wizards, better than all the purebloods; we are the leaders of this race, at the very top! Do not underestimate what a name can mean!"

Draco sneered from the ground, his face twisting in pain as he did so.

"Oh yes, father. _Leaders_. Top of the pack, aren't we father? While You-Know-Who tells you exactly what to do and _exactly_ how to do it. You are not a leader, father. You are a _slave_."

Lucius bent over him for a moment, eyes red with wrath, nostrils slightly flared.

Draco sneered once more, knowing it would be the last straw for Lucius, in which he was correct.

Lucius pulled out his wand, arm fairly shaking with temper.

"_Crucio_!" he shrieked, sending Draco reeling backwards as the pain hit him full force.

It had been a while since Draco had angered his father so much, and the pain seemed to have intensified from his memories.

Although he always had tried to block out those particular ones.

He twisted and writhed on the floor, pain shooting through his body, making unwanted tears run down his face, mixing with the blood from his nose.

Lucius lifted the curse after a moment, leaving Draco struggling for breath on the ground, trying not to cry out.

"Weak. That is all you are Draco. Perhaps it was better to have you decide the way you did. It will save us a lot of hardship later on."

He bent down so that he was level with Draco's face and whispered; "goodbye, Draco. You are no longer my son."

He stood up again, smoothing his robes down with his hands.

Draco closed his eyes, wishing he would just leave.

Lucius muttered something under his breath and Draco seemed to be consumed by white hot fire.

He screamed out as it began to eat away at him, leaving no mark.

It was worse even than the Cruciatus curse, if that were possible.

Lucius turned away with a hiss of robes and walked swiftly out of the door.

As soon as he was gone, Draco let the darkness take over, and he passed out.

_xxx_

There was silence when he woke.

Silence so deep and utterly whole that his ears buzzed with the pain of it.

He groaned, merely for noise, but couldn't hear anything.

Thinking that perhaps his voice had left him, for the moment, he beat his fist against the carpet.

Nothing.

Not even a muffled sound.

He stared at his hand, the pain still eating away at him.

Trying to stand, Draco realised that his legs wouldn't move.

His panic increasing, Draco tugged desperately at his legs, tears running silently down his face.

He sobbed, his throat raw with the silent realisation that there was no sound.

No sound, no legs, what had his father done to him?

He cursed his father loudly, shouting obscenities that made birds in the trees outside fly away in bursts of feathers.

Draco's throat burned as he yelled, but he paid it no attention, hoping, wishing, that he could hear something of the pain that wracked his body.

But there was nothing.

He tried again to stand but his legs were dead weights on the floor, and the effort required to move them involved strength, strength that Draco no longer had.

His body convulsed with sudden pain and he cried out, tearing his throat.

The pain became too much again, and he had to succumb to it, darkness enveloping him in its soft embrace.

As his head hit the floor, a steady trickle of blood ran out of his ear and down the curve of his jaw.


	2. Chapter One: Dumbledore

He woke up in a bed this time.

His eyes still closed tightly, wishing, hoping it had only been a dream; he searched for a noise that would tell him it had never happened.

But everything was silent, still.

He opened his eyes slowly, praying for a miracle, and his body convulsed with a wave of the now familiar pain.

Three Healers stood next to him, faces worried.

Draco tried desperately to see a familiar face amongst the Healers, but they all seemed the same – white coats, white faces, white eyes, white pain, white, white, white.

He put a hand up to his face to shield his eyes from the omnipresent shade and wondered if he still had a voice.

Too loud, not knowing whether they could hear him or not, he asked for quill and parchment.

The pain that attacked his body at the words was incredible, icy cold, like a billion icicles slicing into his flesh.

He tightened his fists as they looked for parchment, a quill already on the table next to him.

Finally they handed him parchment and he wrote quickly, asking whether they knew what had happened.

Passing the parchment to the nearest Healer, his face tightened as they discussed something in voices that he couldn't hear.

The Healer wrote something on the parchment, her face worried.

He took it in one hand, feeling anxious.

_No_. _The only thing we could fix was your broken nose and some of the bruises_. _The rest, we have no power over_.

He looked at it blindly, tears starting to blur his vision.

What if he has to stay like this for the rest of his life?

He took the quill, asking how they had found him.

The Healer read it quickly and wrote back again.

_Aurors found you at your home three days ago_. _You have been asleep since then_.

Draco looked at the writing, his face blank.

_Three days?_

Fear washed over him as he wondered whether his life could ever get back to normal.

He grasped the headboard of the bed and pulled himself up until he was sitting, his arms shaking with the effort.

The Healers surrounding him rushed forwards, trying to steady him.

He lowered his head for a moment, feeling dizzy.

As soon as he had his head back in order he wrote on the other side of the parchment.

_Can I go back to Hogwarts and finish my last year?_

He looked up at them expectantly, hoping, praying that they would say yes.

They stood, talking for a long time, and Draco saw that they didn't want him to go.

Hot anger filled him as he watched someone, once again, deciding what he was going to do with his life.

Before he could say anything, however, one of the Healers seemed to have an idea and they talked eagerly, huddled together as though he might, somehow, hear them.

Eventually she turned back to Draco and wrote something on the parchment, smiling widely.

_Yes, you can go back_. _You will have to have someone to help you, though_.

Draco sighed as he read it, wishing there was another way, but the Healers seemed determined.

He nodded an affirmative reluctantly, his forehead creasing.

The Healers looked happy for him, so he tried not to seem too bothered.

They were doing a lot for him, after all.

Suddenly he creased over as another wave of ice cold pain filled his body, and the Healers looked concerned.

One of them ran out and bought a small bottle back a few minutes later, just as Draco had uncurled himself.

The Healer handed him the bottle, writing that it was for the pain.

He drank it eagerly, not even noticing how disgusting it tasted.

The potion ran quickly through his body, warming him from the cold pain he had been feeling so steadily.

He lay back slowly, his head hitting the soft pillow and his breath evening.

For the first time in days, he slept free of dreams and pain.

_xxx_

Draco sat up as Alice walked into the room, carrying his dinner.

Her Healer's cloak strained a little at the buttons, and she was rather untidy, but she was nice, and Draco liked her.

He had gradually strengthened his arms over the last two weeks and was able to push himself up and move himself in basically any way that was needed.

Of course, the activities he so desperately craved were closed to him – he couldn't walk, run, or fly.

Alice smiled at him as she set the tray onto his lap, brushing greying hair out of her eyes as she stood up.

He nodded, smiling back at her, wishing he could say thank you properly.

She had been very kind to him over the last fortnight; doing perhaps more than was required of her to make him comfortable.

Although he hated not being able to help himself, she always made it seem as though she was merely there in case, only as a backdrop, perhaps.

Just a friend who was a little worried that he might fall.

He tried to say thank you to her, his voice, as usual too loud, showing exactly how thankful he really was.

She smiled again, resting a hand on his and mouthed _thank you_.

He lowered his head, thinking how glad he was that he had her to look after him and not the Healer who had looked after him for a few days near the start.

He had been smart, reasonably kind, and quite possibly filthy rich, but he reminded Draco a little too much of Lucius for comfort.

Draco pushed the thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on his dinner.

Alice fussed around his bedside more than usual today, he noticed, and he asked her why.

She picked up the quill and parchment that were now always next to his bed and wrote something down.

She handed it to him, looking extremely pleased.

Draco wondered for a moment what it could be and then looked down at the parchment.

_Albus Dumbledore is coming to meet you today!_

Draco fought back a grimace and tried to smile instead, for her sake.

It came out looking rather lopsided so he looked down at his dinner again.

Alice took the parchment from him and bustled out of the room, wearing a ridiculous grin.

Draco shovelled food into his mouth, for once not worrying if it was proper manners or not.

Dumbledore would only come to see him if there was bad news, he just knew it.

He would probably _pretend_ it was about him coming back to Hogwarts, but he doubted that would be the main gist of the conversation.

Albus Dumbledore would not bother to come and see _him_, Draco Malfoy, over a mere cursing.

Draco snorted.

Alright, maybe he would.

He set the now empty tray on his bedside table and lay back on his pillows, itching to get up and run around. He was so _sick_ of not being able to move, not being able to hear.

He wondered for a moment whether, if he had to choose, which he would take.

Deaf or paraplegic?

He hit the pillow softly.

Not that he had a choice.

He had both, and that was that.

Half an hour passed, an hour, and Draco didn't move.

He didn't cry anymore, at least.

He had done that for the first few nights – just cried until he was exhausted and woken up red eyed and bone-weary.

Two hours passed and Draco had done nothing but move onto his front.

Alice had come in and taken his tray, given him a book to read.

He smiled, thanked her, didn't move.

Eventually he felt a clock striking the time outside, the vibrations running up the bed and into his prone body.

_BOOM_

He wondered when Dumbledore was meant to arrive.

_BOOM_

Would it be later today, or sometime in the afternoon?

_BOOM_

Maybe he wouldn't even come today, Draco thought hopefully. Maybe Alice got the days mixed up.

_BOOM_

A hand rested gently on Draco's shoulder and he turned around, startled.

Dumbledore stood at his bedside, wearing a crooked smile and half-moon glasses that caught the light.

Draco sat up, arms straining as he moved his legs.

He cursed under his breath before realising that Dumbledore had probably heard.

Draco looked up at the old man guiltily and his breath caught in his throat.

Dumbledore's eyes were wet around the corners.

He didn't seem to find it necessary to wipe the tears away; instead he sat on the edge of Draco's bed, careful not to sit on his useless legs.

After a moment he reached for the parchment and quill, muttering something in a low voice.

Draco tried to make out the words on his lips, but they moved too fast.

Eventually Dumbledore had written his speech on the parchment and he handed it to Draco, who took it with steady hands.

_Draco, it gladdens me no end that you have decided to return to Hogwarts, despite the difficulties it poses for you. _

_We must, however, discuss your helper. _

_We have a student who will help you this year in various tasks that you may find complicated, and to make things easier, the two of you will share a common room, with two separate dormitories. _

_This will mean that if anything goes wrong, they will be there to help you immediately. _

_I thought it wiser to have you away from the Slytherin dormitories merely because of the trouble this may cause you and your helper._

_You will understand further when you meet them._

_In addition to this, you will have your own kitchen and bathroom to share with this person, in case some problem should arise and you find it too difficult to get to the Great Hall every day._

Draco went pale.

A _student_? He had been under the impression that he would have a Healer with him – someone _qualified_. He had been especially counting on that person being Alice.

He didn't want anyone at school to know how very vulnerable he was. That would be a blow to his pride that he couldn't afford right now. Not now he was feeling as low as he already was.

He told Dumbledore so, leaving out the vulnerability parts.

Dumbledore inclined his head, his fingers steepling.

He reached for another piece of parchment after a moment, writing something in a neat hand and giving it back to Draco.

Draco took it, hoping it was some sort of compromise.

It wasn't.

_A nurse would provide more difficulties than help, I am afraid to say._

_If it were not so, I would have bought one for you especially, but as it is, a student is far easier, and I think it will also solve some other problems._

Draco stared at the note, seeing the reason in it, but wishing he couldn't.

He nodded after a moment, giving his consent, again reluctantly; to something he couldn't fairly change.

"Who will it be?" he asked, a little too loudly.

Dumbledore winked roguishly and tapped the side of his nose.

Draco sighed and took a wild guess that he wasn't going to be told any time soon.

Stupid old man.

Draco looked at Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling annoyingly.

Draco had an idea, by that annoying twinkle, that it was going to be someone he didn't like.

He also had a fair idea that they (whoever _they_ was) didn't know what was being planned for them all year either.

Dumbledore stood up, smiling broadly and put his hand out for Draco to take.

Draco took it, trying to smile back but looking like he was grimacing.

Dumbledore shook his hand and left the room, still smiling.

Draco threw himself back onto his pillows dejectedly.

It was going to be a _long_ year.

He just knew it.


	3. Chapter Two: A Train Ride and a 'Helper'

_September the first._

Draco sat in his wheelchair, glaring at the wall that he was about to go through.

He'd never liked the damn thing, and now he had to go through in a _wheelchair_?

It was beyond embarrassing.

He closed his eyes for a second, gathering much needed courage.

Draco opened them with a snap as he saw a group of children walk past, eyeing him curiously.

It was just as bad out here.

He might as well get it over with.

The Auror who was standing at his side attempted to push him through, but Draco pushed him away, glaring, and wheeled himself through.

The Auror walked briskly beside him as Draco came out onto the platform and skidded to a stop as his vision was obscured by the steam rising from the train.

He reluctantly let the Auror wheel him onto the train and into an empty carriage where he put on the brakes, and the Auror packed his trunks into the upper parts of the carriage.

Draco watched him leave through narrowed eyes, wishing the stupid man hadn't had to come.

It was embarrassing enough as it was.

Draco leaned back in his wheelchair, pulling out a copy of The Daily Prophet and starting to read it when Harry, Hermione and Ron came in.

They stopped short at the sight of him and Draco looked disdainfully up at them.

They kept staring at him and he sneered.

"What? Never seen a 'special person' before?" he asked, too loud.

Harry and Ron shoved past him and put their bags away.

Hermione stood in the doorway, staring at him, and he was surprised and worried to see pity in her eyes.

She said something to him and Harry and Ron turned around, looks of pure shock on their faces at whatever she had said.

Draco looked at her curiously for a few moments, wondering what she might have said to him.

He blinked at her, trying to erase the curious look from his face and said; "Sorry, I can't hear you. As well as being a vegetable, I'm completely deaf. Probably a good thing, what with you lot as company."

Much as he tried to leave it, there was less of a barb in his voice than usual.

He struggled with that thought for a moment before looking down again.

Hermione sat down next to him and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.

Draco looked over at her and snorted.

"Typical." He muttered, opening the newspaper again.

Hermione glared at him.

He saw Harry and Ron do the same out of the corner of his eye.

Draco shook his head, and concentrated on the financial section.

After a moment, Hermione slipped a piece of parchment onto his newspaper and looked at him expectantly.

He glanced down at it, and seeing what it said, shook it off his newspaper and onto the floor, ignoring her completely.

_How?_ As if he was going to tell her that!

Hermione sighed deeply, something that Draco could see out of the corner of his eye.

Harry and Ron glared at him suspiciously but he continued to read the newspaper and eventually they started to talk amongst themselves.

Draco looked up at them briefly, once, thinking.

It was a strange feeling, knowing people were talking, but being unable to hear them.

Like sitting inside a glass case, watching.

_xxx_

Draco woke up as the train was pulling in, Hermione shaking his arm gently.

Harry and Ron had already gotten their bags down and were waiting impatiently for her to come with them.

He pushed her away viciously, wishing she wouldn't be so nice to him.

It made him feel stupid, and the fact that she felt pity for him was beyond all human endurance.

She threw her hands up in defeat and dropped his trunk onto his lap heavily.

He glared at her as she walked out, tension emanating in waves from her back.

Wheeling himself out of the carriage was difficult with the trunk on his lap, but he managed it, the wheels cool under his burning hands.

He was stumped for a moment by the steps, but the wheelchair seemed to have some kind of function that let him get up and down stairs easily.

He wheeled himself down the path, trying to ignore the curious looks students shot him and concentrated firmly on the compact dirt below him.

Reaching the carriages, he looked around for an empty one, hoping to have gotten in early enough.

An empty carriage sat near the front of the line and he levitated himself shakily into it, his trunk floating in after him.

When he had settled himself as comfortably as was possible in the situation, he let his gaze wander to the window and he stared out at the steady stream of students wandering past.

They all seemed so happy, laughing and talking animatedly.

Draco sighed as he watched them, wishing the circumstances were different.

Whether he had wanted to or not, from a young age, Lucius had organised his fate to be a lonely one, filled with duties rather than friends.

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes.

A jolt from the carriage made him sit bolt upright until he realised that the carriages had merely begun to move.

He turned his attention back to the window and watched the trees passing in a blur of green and grey.

Finally the carriages trundled to a stop and Draco levitated himself onto the ground, wheeling himself and his trunk slowly up to the castle, people running past him and into the hall, their trunks dragging along the ground behind them.

He stopped for a minute at the doors to the Great Hall, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath.

After his heart had slowed a little, he wheeled himself into the Hall and down to the end of the Slytherin table, away from anyone he knew.

Immediately after he had wheeled into place, a tawny school owl flew down and landed on his shoulder, clicking its beak impatiently.

He took the note from its outstretched claw and set it on the table.

As soon as the owl was sure he had it, it nipped him gently on the finger and flew out of the room.

Some of the students watched it go curiously, but most were preoccupied by friends they hadn't seen for months.

Draco made certain no one was watching him and opened the note carefully.

He recognised Dumbledore's neat script from the note he had written whilst Draco was in hospital, and sighed a little.

The note told him to go to Dumbledore's office at the end of the feast to meet his helper and be shown their rooms.

Draco grimaced and braced himself for the long feast that was to follow.

The time passed slowly as Draco could neither hear nor had anyone to amuse him.

The Sorting Hat's song was silent for him and the following students were unfamiliar.

Any new students being sorted into Slytherin passed without a word or glance, and although Draco was grateful for this, it made the proceedings exceptionally dull.

Eventually, however, Dumbledore had finished his speech, the feast had appeared and disappeared and Draco was full and ready to leave and sleep.

He waited for Dumbledore to finish his last speech and wheeled out of the hall, hiding from prying eyes amongst the body of students themselves.

He went quickly to the Headmaster's office, the empty corridors surrounding him seeming to exacerbate his loneliness.

Any group of students he did come across gave him a wide berth, a feeling that, once, would have made him happy, but now, knowing the reason was pity rather than fear, made him angry.

Hiding his emotions behind a porcelain face, he reached the gargoyle that marked Dumbledore's office and spoke the password that had been included near the top of the note.

The gargoyle jumped aside as he spoke and Draco went up the revolving staircase, his palms holding the sides of his chair tightly.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he knocked loudly on the door, which opened slowly of its own accord.

He entered warily, trying to work out if his 'helper' was already in the room.

His gaze caught Dumbledore's eyes first, and the man smiled in welcome.

As he did so, he saw out of the corner of his eye, someone turn, their face bewildered by the interruption.

At her face, he involuntarily gasped and cried "you!"

Hermione Granger stared back at him, anger and surprise written all over her face.


	4. Chapter Three: Water Thoughts

Draco stared at Hermione as she paced Dumbledore's office, her face angry.

Dumbledore watched her, smiling, his eyes twinkling irritatingly.

Draco stared down into his lap.

_Her? Why her? Why Granger?_

_Would you rather Potter? _he asked himself, and shuddered at the thought.

Granger was better, but not by much.

She wasn't even _good looking_.

_And_ she was a Mudblood.

He looked up again as she paced near him, and saw that her hands were in tight fists.

She stopped suddenly in front of Dumbledore, her back to Draco.

She steepled her fingers and tried to keep her breathing steady as she looked at her headmaster, and then spoke.

"Professor. I understand that you think this is the right thing to do. Obviously you wouldn't do it if you didn't think so…but, I just have to say, this will _severely _impact my schoolwork this year, and as it is my last and most important, I'd rather…"

Dumbledore halted her words with a raised hand.

Draco stared at them, wondering what was going on.

It seemed as though they were arguing, but very calmly.

If he had been Granger, he probably would have thrown something, refused to look after a spoiled blonde brat and stormed out.

Not that she would ever do that. She was too much of a goody two shoes.

Plus, she probably _pitied_ him enough to 'put their differences aside'.

Stupid Gryffindor's and their stupid bloody good will.

Dumbledore lowered his gnarled hand and spoke.

"This is my decision, Miss Granger. I believe you are smart and organised enough to deal with this appropriately, as well as the fact that you share many of Mr Malfoy's classes. This is the easiest way we can arrange this, so I would appreciate it if you would take this in your stride like the _admirably_ mature young woman I know you are."

Hermione flushed at the unexpected praise and lowered her eyes.

"Alright, sir." She mumbled, still not looking up at the old man.

Dumbledore beamed and clapped his hands.

"Wonderful! Now, I will show you to your rooms!"

He stood with an amazing amount of grace for one so old and opened the door for them both.

Draco wheeled himself through first, ignoring Hermione as best he could, when she was glaring at him demonically.

Dumbledore walked swiftly along the corridors, his star studded blue cloak rustling around him.

Draco and Hermione followed as quickly as they could, Draco shoving Hermione's hand away when she tried to push him.

She glared at him again and walked briskly ahead so that Draco had to wheel frantically to keep up.

Finally they reached a large painting of a child in a cornfield, petting a dog.

Draco decided she looked positively vapid and disliked the painting at once.

Dumbledore left them at the door with a smile and the password, telling them that they could change it at any time.

Hermione opened it quickly, saying something to Vapid Girl and walked inside.

She kept it open for Draco, who wheeled in irritably, ignoring the painting when she waved at him.

He pushed past Hermione, grunting something about needing a bath, and wheeled into the bathroom.

He closed the door and looked around curiously, wondering what his new 'home' was like.

The bathroom was surprisingly quite large, the bath more of a pool than anything.

Wheeling to the taps, he turned them all on and waited for the bath to fill.

Fantastic smells rose from the water as it filled, different colours and shapes of bubbles pouring from the taps as the water ran in thick streams onto the marble.

Eventually it was full and Draco undressed himself and put the brakes onto his chair, getting out with some difficulty, and lowering himself into the hot water with a sigh of relief.

The bubbles sank a little as he settled himself into their midst, and then surrounded him again.

He lay there for a moment and then began to wash himself.

Sticking his head under the water, and giving it a vigorous shake, he lost his grip on the bath's seat and fell into the deeper water.

His useless legs only weighing him down, he struggled to reach the surface, and only succeeding in falling deeper and deeper.

He finally hit the bottom of the bath and briefly considered simply breathing in water and ending it all, but, in a brief flash, saw Lucius's triumphant face and pushed himself up, his arms popping from the effort.

His head broke the surface and he managed to gulp down a breath of air before he was under again, the hot water making his arms feel weaker than he could have imagined.

The water rushed over his face as he drew himself up again, and he tried to breathe through the bubbles, but sucked them in.

He coughed violently and dropped back below the surface, drawing water into his lungs.

With a last huge effort, he reached up for the side of the bath and dragged himself up, his head resting on the cool marble as he struggled for breath.

After a few minutes, he pulled himself out of the bath with trembling arms and vomited water onto the tiles, his chest trembling and his eyes closed.

His heart hammered from the shock of nearly drowning and he raised a hand to his brow, pushing wet hair out of his face, and trying to get his breath back.

Draco reached for his chair and pulled it towards him, pulling the towel down over himself.

He lay there for a moment longer and then started to dry himself, then pulled himself into his chair and pulling on his trousers.

He gathered the rest of his clothes and wheeled out of the bathroom, trying to look nonchalant.

Reaching the Common Room, he noticed Hermione reading on the couch and wheeled over to her.

"Where's my room?" he asked brusquely, and she pointed to the right without raising her eyes from the book she was reading.

He looked over and saw a door set into the wall further along the room and wheeled towards it, closing his eyes as he reached it and taking a deep breath to calm his still wildly beating heart.

_At least its still _is _beating_ he thought ruefully, pushing the door open with his foot.

He wheeled in and closed it behind him, barely looking around as he went to his bed.

Draco pulled himself out of his chair and into bed, his eyes closing as soon as his head hit the pillow.

_xxx_

Hermione watched the door concernedly as soon as he had shut it, and only stood up and went to her room when she heard him stop turning in his bed.


	5. Chapter Four: Voices

Hermione hummed cheerfully to herself as she waited for Ron and Harry

Hermione hummed cheerfully to herself as she waited for Ron and Harry.

It had been the perfect summer – her parents had taken her to France again, and they had spent a relaxing two weeks in Marseilles before she had flown back to the Burrow to spend the last week of the holidays with Harry and the Weasleys.

As the end of the holidays rolled around, Hermione had found herself in the state of mind where nothing could possibly go wrong.

She hadn't received Head Girl, which had upset her a little, but it didn't really seem to matter.

Harry was safe, Ron was safe, she was safe, her family was safe, they were all still best friends, and the sun was shining brighter than she had ever seen it shine.

-

She pushed herself off the wall as Harry and Ron rounded the corner, bickering about who was the better Quidditch team; the Chudley Cannons or the Montrose Magpies.

"But the Magpies won the British and Irish League _thirty two_ times, Ron!" said Harry, looking frustrated. "How many times have the Chudley Cannons won?"

Ron went red and said loudly "Twenty one times, Harry, twenty one! That's nearly two thirds of thirty two!"

Hermione snickered behind her hand. Harry looked astonished and then exasperated.

"_Since_ 1892?"

Ron mumbled something under his breath.

Harry made a derisive noise and then asked sarcastically; "What? What was that? Oh yes, _none_!"

Ron mumbled something else quietly. Hermione had a feeling it wasn't about Quidditch.

She walked up to the boys and tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned around, looking irritated, but smiled when he saw her.

Hermione hugged him tightly and then turned to Ron.

As she hugged him she whispered, "Don't mind Harry. He's just jealous that he doesn't have a proper team to support."

Ron smirked as she pulled away and poked his tongue out at Harry when he wasn't looking.

Hermione rolled her eyes and they walked to the train as it whistled.

As Harry pulled his trunk into the train, a youngish man pushed past him, quite obviously disgruntled. Ron didn't even notice, he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Harry watched him with narrowed eyes as he walked through the barrier and disappeared.

"Why d'you think there was an Auror on the train?" he asked Hermione quietly, who was pulling her trunk along behind him.

She shook her head slowly, trying to figure it out, but was unsuccessful.

"I don't know, Harry." she said, looking anxious. "But I'm sure it's nothing. We're all safe, you know? He was probably…giving something to the train driver to give to Dumbledore."

She looked up at him hopefully.

He shook his head and opened the door of a carriage. "No, Hagrid always gets those jobs. I dunno what it could have been though…"

He stopped talking suddenly as he saw the carriage wasn't empty, as he had previously thought.

Draco Malfoy looked up at them contemptuously and raised an eyebrow as they kept staring at him.

It was too strange, thought Hermione, her eyes wide. Why was he in a wheelchair?

Something had quite obviously gone horribly wrong – but what? There was a nasty scar running along the length of his neck that made her shudder. It was white, but raised, and looked as though it should hurt.

He seemed to become bored of them staring at him and he sneered.

"What? Never seen a 'special person' before?" he asked, his voice strangely loud, as though he couldn't really tell if they could hear him.

Harry and Ron broke out of their trance like state and pushed past him roughly.

Hermione saw them put their bags away out of the corner of her eye, but her attention stayed on Draco Malfoy.

Before she could stop it, the pity she felt for him rose out of her throat like bile.

"Gods, I'm sorry Malfoy. This is awful. No-one should have to go through whatever you have gone through."

Ron and Harry turned around and stared at her, stunned.

Hermione slapped herself mentally. Too much said, even if it was true. He couldn't know she felt compassion for him, or he might use it against her. Crap.

Draco was still looking slightly confused, and then he sat up straighter.

"Sorry, I can't hear you. As well as being a vegetable, I'm completely deaf. Probably a good thing, what with you lot as company."

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. His voice was…softer somehow. He hadn't even sounded particularly mean when he said it.

Although that might just have been because he couldn't hear himself.

She shrugged and sat down next to him, pulling out parchment and a quill.

There was a high chance he wouldn't tell her, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and there was no harm in trying, was there?

Draco had obviously seen her get out the writing implements and gotten the wrong idea, because he snorted and muttered "typical." before opening his newspaper again and studiously ignoring her.

Hermione glared at him. He just made her so _mad_! What was it about him? The way he just didn't seem to care, or…was it something else?

She shook the thought off and wrote down her question anyway. It wasn't as though she was any less curious because he was an idiot.

She slipped the parchment onto the top of his newspaper and watched him expectantly. He took one look at the parchment and shook it off, ignoring her completely.

_He's the one who's predictable_ she thought crossly, folding her arms and sighing deeply as she let herself fall back into the seat.

Harry and Ron contented themselves with glaring at Draco for a few minutes but eventually got bored of it when he wouldn't deign to look up at them.

Harry glanced over at him one more time and then said quietly, "You don't think he's just…I dunno, acting, do you?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow delicately. "What do you mean by that, Harry James Potter?"

Harry put his hands up soothingly before she could get angry.

"No, no, I just meant – well, maybe he can actually hear, but he thought, I dunno, that if he pretended he couldn't, we'd say stuff in front of him."

Hermione sat back in her seat, slightly placated.

"I don't know Harry. We can't really tell."

Harry looked dejected. "I s'pose so."

Ron looked up from his sandwiches.

"Yeah we can. Honestly, you'd think you two had never even heard of Fred and George. You know, my twin brothers? The brilliant ones? Red hair, so tall?"

Hermione made a sarcastic noise.

"_Funny_, Ronald. Would you like to tell us what you mean in English, please?"

Ron poked his tongue out at her but continued.

"Well, you know, we insult him. See if it gets a reaction."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How _old_ are you, Ron? Five?"

Ron looked disgruntled. "Well, it'll _work_, whatever you say."

"Fine. Let's try then. You first. And don't look at him, otherwise, if he actually _is _deaf, he'll know we're talking to him." said Hermione, thinking that, if he could hear them, he was probably having a grand old laugh at them and their immature reasoning.

"Alright. Hey Malfoy, you great queer!"

Hermione kicked Ron's leg.

He looked up at her, startled. "What was that for?"

"That's awful, Ron. If you call people 'queer' an insult, well, that's just playing right into the hands of…"

She stopped, noticing that he wasn't listening and narrowed her eyes.

"Just don't say it, Ron. It's a disgusting thing to say."

Ron rolled his eyes but made mollifying gestures at her.

"Fine, fine. Oi, Malfoy? Did your idiot traitor father finally realise that you're a waste of space and try and get rid of you?"

Hermione drew in a sharp intake of breath. That was going too far…wasn't it?

Harry was sniggering and Ron looked as though he was enjoying himself immensely.

She shook her head, trying not to over think it, and took out a book that she was halfway through.

The boys continued with their insults, but it seemed as though he truly couldn't hear them. Hermione had been quite certain that, if he had, he would have done _something _when Harry made that comment about his mother and a thestral.

Eventually the boys quietened down and resumed their conversation about Quidditch, as Harry had said very firmly, "I won't talk in front of him about anything important. We might have 'tested' but we can't tell for sure. We can't take any chances. He's a pretty big enemy, and if anything we say gets back to Voldemort through him – well, we'll be kicking ourselves for not being careful, won't we?" and Hermione and Ron had agreed.

Finally the train pulled into the station and the familiar voice of Hagrid calling "Firs' years! Firs' years! This way! Firs' years!" could be heard over the noises of the train.

As they were getting their things together, Hermione noticed that Draco was still asleep and, after a moment's hesitation, she leant over and shook his arm gently.

Just because she didn't like him didn't mean she could leave him asleep as the train turned back around, did it?

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to share her view, or, in fact, feel any goodwill towards her, for he pushed her away viciously, making her fall back against the wall.

She threw her hands up in defeat and, muttering a few choice expletives, dumped his trunk heavily into his lap. She could feel him glaring at her back as she walked out, but chose to ignore it.

Who did he think he was, being so high and mighty and acting as though nothing bothered him?

She ran after Harry and Ron, who had walked ahead a little and they reached an empty carriage.

Without thinking, Hermione turned around and saw Draco shakily going down the steps, his trunk gradually slipping down as he moved.

She had a strange urge to run over and help him but restrained herself. He had reached the ground anyhow, and was moving towards them.

She sped up and climbed quickly into the carriage, but he didn't see her as he passed – he was too busy staring at the ground.

She felt the pity well up in herself again and turned away. The carriage ride was taken up with thoughts of him.

-

As the carriage shuddered to a stop, Hermione and the two boys gathered their belongings and jumped out.

Walking up the steps, Hermione forgot about Draco when talk turned to who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor would be.

"D'you reckon it'll be another one of the Ministry's?" Ron asked, looking between his two friends uneasily.

Harry laughed grimly.

"Let's hope not. I've still got scars from the last one."

He waved his hand around expressively. Hermione shook her head. As appalling as the incident had been, Harry _did _bring it up an awful lot.

"Well, it won't matter much either way. They won't last the year."

The two boys laughed and Hermione smiled despite herself at Ron's comment.

"Now, now. You shouldn't make jokes about things like that!"

Ron ruffled her hair affectionately and she squealed with laughter, holding Harry in front of her like a shield. "Harry! Oh, no! Don't let him- argh! Ha."

Laughing and giggling, the trio made their way to the Great Hall, whereupon they sat down at the Gryffindor table, still laughing and out of breath.

Hermione, looking across the hall, caught a glimpse of tawny feathers and grey eyes.

Her heart stopping momentarily, she watched as he opened a letter after checking that no-one was watching him. As soon as he had checked the writing, she saw him sigh a little, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

She watched him as he read through the note, feeling voyeuristic, but unable to take her eyes off the boy across the room.

His face contorted into a grimace and she wondered what the matter was, but was distracted after only a moment by Harry, who was asking Ron whether he wanted to sneak into Hogsmeade that weekend. Unable to stop herself, she leant over to chastise them, and missed the look that Draco gave her.

The feast passed slowly, the Sorting Hat's song merely a repeat of the previous year's, warning them to stick together and beware of enmity amongst themselves.

As Dumbledore's speech rumbled to an end, he held up his hand.

"Before any of you go, I would just like to repeat how very important it is that everyone stay united. The Houses of Hogwarts were not created so that we would stand apart, rather that we would know our own strengths and be able to link them so that we are all stronger.

"Remember that no-one is your enemy here unless you make them so. Do not give anyone reason to become your enemy, and give them every reason to become your friend. In the years to come, we will all need as much help from each other as we can get.

"Speaking of that, would Hermione Granger please come to my office after everybody has left? Thank you. Goodnight, students! Be prepared for a fantastic year ahead!"

Harry turned to Hermione, looking concerned. "Why do you think he wants to talk to you?"

Hermione shrugged, watching Dumbledore as he climbed down from the stand. He caught her eye and smiled, giving the trio a small wave.

"Well, whatever it is," Hermione said, not taking her eyes off Dumbledore, who was now talking animatedly to McGonagall, "I'm sure it can't be too awful. He didn't look upset or anything."

Harry nodded, but he still looked a little troubled.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's fine. It's just a little odd, that's all."

Hermione rested her chin in her hands and watched Draco as he wheeled himself out of the hall, head down.

"Yes, it is odd," she said in a soft voice. "It's all quite odd."

-

"It should only take a moment, Miss Granger. If you would like to sit down, you may." Dumbledore gestured to a chair and Hermione sank into it gratefully.

Humming softly, Dumbledore re-arranged the various odds and ends on his desk while Hermione fiddled with her skirt.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione heard the door open and she turned around, wondering who it was and why they were so important to the 'discussion' which Dumbledore had promised they would have.

There was a small gasp and the boy cried "you!"

She stared back at him, anger and surprise fighting for control over her face.

Dumbledore's low, pleasant voice interrupted their staring match.

"Mister Malfoy is to be in your care this year, Miss Granger. I trust you will get along well."

-

Although she could hardly say she was pleased, Hermione was not very surprised that she had been chosen to care for Draco Malfoy. After all, she was probably the only person who could deal with both him _and_ her school work.

She had dearly wanted to tell Dumbledore that she would not do it, but he had made her feel so _awful_ when he said all those nice things to her. Which she was sure had been his plan.

It didn't matter anyway, because she was stuck with the Slytherin, and he was stuck with her. _At least_, Hermione thought moodily, _at least I might understand him a little better now_.

But that hardly made up for the fact that she was stuck with a boy who not only hated her, but was quite possibly involved in the downfall of her entire kind.

"I'm going to have a bath." Draco grunted at her, pushing past in his wheelchair. She watched him go, feeling incredibly sorry for him; a feeling that diminished her general hatred of him not in the slightest.

"Whatever." she muttered, sighing as the door closed behind him with a crash that could have woken the entire castle.

Hermione dithered for a moment, unsure of what she should do.

Normally on the first night back, she would have gone straight to bed; but what to do now that she was a carer? She could hardly knock on the bathroom door and demand that she watch him as he bathed, but what if he needed help getting to bed, or…really, she had no idea what was even expected of her.

It was absolutely ridiculous. Dumbledore had given her no instructions as to what she was to do.

Hermione resolved to talk to him the next day, and in the meantime, unpacked her trunk.

After a moments hesitation, she began to open one of Draco's trunks, ready to pack his things away, and then latched it back up again.

She may have been his carer, but she was not a servant, and it was unlikely that he would thank her anyway.

On the contrary, it was more than likely that he would yell at her for invading his privacy.

She shook her head and sat down on the couch, attempting to read her new book. But her thoughts kept returning to the boy in the bathroom. Had it been too long? Surely he should have finished now. Maybe she should check on him.

She began to stand and then, hearing the bathroom door close with a bang in the corridor, sat down again, pretending to read.

She heard the wheelchair on the floorboards and kept her eyes resolutely on her book, unable to look at him.

"Where's my room?" Draco asked abruptly, and though she bristled at the brusque tone he used with her, she pointed to the right without raising her eyes from her book, which, she realised with a painful drop of her stomach, was upside down.

Fortunately he seemed not to notice and wheeled down the corridor to his room. She heard the silence which filled the room when he stopped outside his door.

Trying not to let him see, Hermione turned around and watched him breathe deeply, facing the door but apparently with no desire to enter.

After a few moments he kicked the door open and rolled inside, closing the door behind him.

She watched the door for a long time, unable to get up and go to her own room until the sounds of him turning in his bed had stopped.

-

"You don't really expect me to let you dress me, do you?"

Hermione sighed.

"It's not as though I _want_ to." she muttered, pulling a notepad and quill out of her pocket. Today was going to be so long. This year was going to be _so long_.

Draco rolled his eyes, pulling his blanket down and pushing his useless legs over the edge.

"Don't touch me, Granger." Draco said loudly, not looking at her.

Hermione shoved the notebook heatedly in front of him. He made a face at her and then took it, muttering irritably.

_Do you want me to help you get dressed or don't you? Truth be told I would rather not, but as I'm your carer it seems that dressing you is one of my _duties. _So?_

Hermione watched him as he read her note and then snorted crossly.

"I'll be _fine_ Granger. Now get out."

Hermione threw her hands up in the air, frustrated beyond belief. She knew how difficult it was going to be for him, but he obviously wasn't going to let her.

If she was honest with herself, it was quite a relief. After all, dressing somebody, especially someone of the same age and opposite sex, was hardly an everyday occurrence and one she wasn't sure she wanted to experience just yet.

"Fine!" she growled, turning on her heel.

She heard a loud _thump _as Draco fell onto the ground, but refused to turn around, knowing he would not thank her if she did.

-

"Stupid Granger." Draco muttered, pushing himself up off the floor and attempting to reach the bed.

"Damn." he murmured as he missed the edge of the bed with his hand.

He let his head fall onto the floor, the carpet irritating the skin on his forehead, making him sigh. He whispered the next words into the carpet, his eyes screwed up.

"Why does everything have to be so goddamn hard?"

Nothing was going as he had planned. What had he planned, anyway? What had he thought would happen if he stood up to his father as he did? What was going to happen to him now that he was no longer a Malfoy?

Draco made himself think about these things every night, knowing that although it wouldn't matter either way, he needed answers. Surely, being as powerless as he was, nothing would ever go the way he wanted it to again.

He hit the floor lightly with a closed fist.

Dragging himself across the floor was hard on his arms, but it achieved its desired end. He reached the bed and pulled himself up, sitting on the edge, breathing heavily.

Draco realised with a plummet of his stomach that he had kicked his wand across the room. He growled, fisting his hands ineffectually.

He felt like Alice in Wonderland. That stupid glass table and the key. Tiny doors. Too big bodies. Fans, mushrooms, cakes, drinks.

He closed his eyes as his head swum with fevered images. Opening his eyes again, he glared at his wand, feeling helpless and hating every fibre of himself.

Then, with a humourless smile at his stupidity, he whispered _accio wand_, sending the tiny piece of wood skittering across the floor and then, finally, into his hand.

It was the one piece of wandless magic that he could do – something he had taught himself after the fourth or fifth time he had left his wand somewhere he could not retrieve it.

Shivering slightly as the cool air hit his skin, Draco pulled his shirt over his head, and then _accio-ed_ a shirt. Pulling the white cotton over his head, he frowned at his legs.

It was the first time he had dressed himself since the incident without his wheelchair, and he wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. He struggled with his pants for a moment, sighing as they refused to budge; his useless legs weighing them down, making it difficult to take them off.

Twenty minutes later, sweating lightly, Draco had twisted himself around and around and finally managed to pull the offending trousers from around his ankles.

Now faced with the difficulty of putting some new ones _on_, Draco contemplated whether or not he should just go back to sleep. Everything was so damn _hard_.

He would never have admitted it aloud (not that he would have heard, anyway), but he was beginning to regret sending Granger away.

Minutes passed, and Draco didn't open his eyes.

Eventually he grew tired of how incompetent he felt, and he began to pull his pants on. When he finally left his room, Draco looked back at the clock on his bedside table.

It had taken him nearly an hour to dress himself, and he hadn't even bothered to brush his hair.

-

Hermione tapped her desk impatiently, and a little worriedly. Draco was meant to be in this class, and he was late.

Hermione hadn't seen him at breakfast, and now he was _late_. For _class_. And it was all her fault.

If she hadn't been so stubborn, if he hadn't been so stubborn – if they had both been a little less stubborn…

She tapped a staccato beat on the desk, wishing he would just turn up so she could stop worrying about him. What a terrible turn of events that Hermione should worry about Draco!

She looked around the room, wondering if anybody else had noticed that he wasn't there. No-one seemed as perturbed as she felt. Perhaps it was just because none of them were responsible for him. Or they just hadn't noticed.

Harry put a hand on Hermione's shoulder gently.

"Hermione, are you ok?" he asked softly, making her turn around in surprise.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I suppose. Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Looking unconvinced, Harry lowered his voice.

"You haven't told us what happened with Dumbledore last night, yet. Did something go wrong?"

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to tell him everything, when a slight disturbance caused them both to turn around.

"What happened to him, d'you think?"

"D'you reckon he's faking it?"

"Might be. He did with that Hippogriff."

"He wasn't faking that, just milking it. That beast did get him pretty good."

"Oh, yeah! Great big scratch! Could have bled to death, couldn't he?"

"Shut up."

Hermione watched silently as Draco wheeled himself up the aisle, seemingly unperturbed by the comments. He couldn't hear them, though, could he? Hermione remembered, hardly having gotten her head around it yet.

He looked nothing like his usual shining self; his hair was mussed and his clothes were rumpled. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his face, which was pale as always, apart from the shadows under his eyes.

The thick scar which ran up his neck was partially hidden by his robes, but what could be seen of it was as heart-stopping as ever.

Pity welled up inside her as she watched him wheel himself into place behind a desk. He sat straight backed, staring straight ahead, ignoring the stares and the whispers.

Cold to everything.

Flitwick made hushing motions at the class and continued to take names.

When he reached Draco, the blonde boy didn't answer. Hermione raised her hand, drawing Flitwick's eyes to her. "He's here, professor. He's, uh…he's totally deaf. But he should be here for most lessons. I can answer for him, I guess."

This bought forth a torrent of new whispers, and Ron turned to Hermione, looking confused. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered, and she sighed.

"I'm his helper." she whispered back, knowing that this would cause another commotion. She was quite correct in that.

"What?! Hermione!"

She shushed Ron and Harry, who were glaring at her, and whispered "I'll tell you later, alright? Now stop making a scene."

They grumbled angrily, but took out their books, glaring at her occasionally.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly and pulled her books out of her bag.

Draco Malfoy was even more of a headache than he normally was, and he wasn't even _trying_. Lord help her when he did.

-

_What am I supposed to do?_

No sound. So what was he meant to do? He had never really realised how very impotent one could feel without hearing.

The teacher's demonstrations fell on, well, deaf ears. There was no way that he could understand what was going on, so he sat there, feeling useless, as the rest of the class learned how to charm a frog to salsa dance.

He could see that much, at least. How to do it? Well, that was a different matter altogether.

Draco rested his chin on his fist and watched the trio as they worked on the charm.

_Attempted_ to work on the charm. Ron's frog was certainly dancing, but even Draco, who had never much liked the dance, could recognise the Macarena when he saw it. Not particularly salsa, though, was it?

Harry's frog was croaking unhappily and occasionally one of his legs jerked up in a strange movement, like it was having a fit.

Hermione's was, of course, perfect by the end of the lesson, salsa-ing across the desk, resplendent in a yellow and black salsa dress which she had conjured up at the last minute.

Draco shook his head as he watched the frog. It was absolute madness to expect that they would need a spell like that anytime soon. Or ever.

_He_ was going mad without sound. Maybe this was really all a fever dream, he tried to assure himself. If that was right, maybe all of this – the wheelchair, the burning silence – maybe that was all a fever dream as well.

Maybe he hadn't even told Lucius that he was never going to be one of Voldemort's followers. It didn't really matter either way, of course. Because whatever this was, he was stuck with it for now. And it certainly wasn't nice.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes, willing the dream to _stop_. When he opened his eyes again, the class still remained in front of him, and the chatter which obviously filled the room was still completely silent.

Draco felt the glass box fall back over him as he watched them talking, unable to hear anything that would tell him that he was alright. He would be alright. Nothing was alright.

-

Hermione picked her frog up and placed him in the box that Flitwick had provided for them.

She brushed her hands down her robes and rolled her shoulders.

It was strange, being back. Everything had shifted minutely and turned Hogwarts into a different place.

Hermione sighed as Harry and Ron looked at her strangely and then walked out of the classroom. She knew that they would be over it by lunchtime, but it just added to the helplessness she felt at this whole situation.

Which bought her back to the boy who was wheeling over to her.

"Granger!"

God, he acted in such a superior way, it made her want to scream. She nodded for him to continue, refraining from rolling her eyes.

"Something has just been bought to my attention. As I cannot hear, classes have taken on a whole new difficulty. What am I supposed to _do_?"

It surprised Hermione to hear the slight note of desperation in his voice, but she overlooked it for the moment, stumped by the problem that he had posed.

She hadn't even thought of the difficulty that he would face in _learning_. All she had thought of was the problems posed by his inability to move.

Conversations, which he had not been much of a one for anyway, had utterly escaped her notice, which, when she thought about it, ashamed her. It seemed such a crucial problem. Something she should have noticed immediately.

She took out her notebook and quill, thinking over the problem as she did so. It occurred to her that she was probably expected to help him in his classes as well.

With a dawning sense of dread, she wrote down the question.

_What class do you have next?_

Draco looked at the paper in confusion, trying to figure out why she wanted to know.

"Uh…Transfiguration with McGonagall. Why?"

Hermione felt her stomach drop. Damn.

_And the class after that?_

He stared at her, confusion slowly turning to understanding, and then irritation.

"Potions with Snape. You have that too, don't you?"

Hermione nodded, trying to keep the miserable look from her face. There would be no getting away from him now. She couldn't believe that Dumbledore would do this to her.

"Fantastic." muttered Draco, looking at the floor.

_Looks like I'm the answer to the problem. _

Draco rolled his eyes as he read her note. "Marvellous, Granger. I'm sure you're incredibly happy with yourself."

Hermione glared at him. He made her so mad!

_I didn't organise this! This is extremely annoying for me, as well! I can't even concentrate on my own work without having to look after you!_

"Oh, very smooth, Granger. Make the invalid feel even worse than usual."

Hermione huffed and turned away from him, thinking that it was a terrible problem, not being able to punch the person in your care into a bloody pulp.

"Let's just go, shall we?" Draco said from behind her, nudging her ankles out of the way with the wheel of his chair.

"Sure," Hermione muttered, walking out of the classroom with her bag clutched to her chest, "I can't wait to get this day started."

-

"You are such a bloody know-it-all, Granger! Merlin, you just don't know how to shut up, do you?"

Hermione's hands fisted tightly as she slammed the door behind her. Her face was twisted and she looked incredibly mad. Draco didn't care. He was sick to death of having her look after him. She made him feel like an absolute invalid and he had never spent so much time in her company, nor had he ever wished to. Now he knew why. They really, really hated each other.

And it didn't help that he couldn't hear anything she said back to him. The whole point of a screaming match was to be able to retort to things that the other person said, and even _that_ small luxury had been taken from him.

Lucius certainly knew how to hurt the ones he loved. Or didn't love. However you wanted to look at it.

"Urgh, I'll see you tomorrow, Granger, worst luck. Don't be too loud. I need my sleep."

Wheeling around and into his room, he relished the look on her face when he had made that last comment. The fact that she was so uncomfortable with his disabilities was sometimes a blessing. At least now he could put in the last word. Not that he would hear if she added something.

He shut the door behind him and wheeled to his mirror. After inspecting the dark circles under his eyes and his hair, which had greased slightly from sweat, he turned away, feeling even sorrier for himself than usual.

He really wanted a bath, but there was no way he was going to endure the humiliation of his last encounter with the porcelain beast. He shrugged it off, resolving to talk to Dumbledore later about the dilemma.

Wheeling over to his bed, he pulled off his shirt and pants, and then rolled into bed, massaging his temples.

Draco leaned over to his bedside table and set the clock to an hour earlier than he normally would have gotten up and turned off the light, drifting off quickly into an uneasy sleep.

The thought of an early waking merely to put on his clothes added to his deepening feeling of impotence, but there was no way in hell that he was going to let Granger dress him.

Images of tomorrow and the rest of the year blurred into a series of torturous thoughts, broken only by the vain hope that he would get better, eventually. Which even Draco didn't believe. He wouldn't let himself.


End file.
